The Dragon and the Phoenix
by time-converges
Summary: Joan and Sherlock make a discovery at her brother's wedding. Fluff.


"Watson! Are you nearly ready? We're going to be late!" Sherlock burst through the connecting door between their rooms without bothering to knock. "We can't be late to your brother's wedding."

Joan turned from the mirror where she was putting the finishing touches on her hair. "Almost- Oh my God, you're actually wearing a tie!"

"Obviously. It is a wedding," he said, tugging at it self-consciously.

"Here, let me," she said, stepping forward to straighten it. She slid her hand down the red silk of the tie, and she thought she heard his breath catch slightly. She patted his chest, then stepped back. "That's better."

"Thank you," he said, and he drummed his fingers on his thighs. "Are you ready?"

"Almost." She turned back to the mirror, and caught his eye as he looked back at her. "Will I do?"

"That's a hell of a dress," he blurted, and she laughed.

"Well, red is traditional. I just wanted it to be a bit...non-traditional, too." The red silk of the dress clung to her curves a bit more than she usually preferred, but she figured her brother only got married once, so why not.

He nodded jerkily. "Yes, well, I think you succeeded."

She lifted her eyebrows at him. "Also, you should prepare yourself for nosy questions from my relatives. My mother has given up on me ever getting married, but for the rest of my aunts, hope springs eternal. They will assume we are-"

He nodded again. "-a couple. I'm prepared for that."

"Good." She picked up her purse from the dresser.

He smiled and offered his arm. "Shall we?"

She took a deep breath, and slipped her arm through his. "Ready as I'll ever be."

The ceremony was short and sweet, a blend of tradition and modernity which Joan appreciated. Sherlock covered her hand with his when she teared up a bit during the vows, which surprised her more than her sudden emotions. He quickly removed his hand, but shifted so their shoulders were touching through the rest of the ceremony. She found his solidity and warmth comforting in a way she tried not to examine too closely.

At the reception, he led her through the crowds to the head table. She felt him tense when he saw the filled champagne glasses, but she took his hand and leaned in to whisper, "Don't worry, it's sparkling juice for us." He squeezed her hand and she felt him relax.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, with a nod to the buffet tables lining one side of the ballroom where guests were already helping themselves.

She smiled and nodded, and let him tuck her arm through his again as they walked across the room.

***  
"So, you're a detective now? A real one?" Gabrielle asked.

"Well, I still have a lot to learn, but yes, I think so," Joan replied, unable to stop a smile. "But enough about me, this is your day!"

"Please, I've had enough of 'my day' for awhile. Tell me about your cases!"

"I promise, when you and Oren are back from the honeymoon, we'll have coffee and I'll tell all."

"I"m going to hold you to that promise you know."

"Good, now go mingle with your guests!"

Joan surveyed the room and spotted Sherlock and her mother locked in an intense conversation. As she approached, she could hear they were speaking Mandarin. Sherlock looked up as she approached.

"What are you two conspiring about?" she asked.

"Only discussing the finer points of the traditional tea ceremony," he replied. "Absolutely fascinating history, truly."

"I see."

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked her mother.

"I'd love a club soda, if it's no trouble," she said. "With lime."

"No trouble at all. Joan?" he asked, turning to her.

"Nothing for me, thanks."

He nodded and headed toward the bar.

"His Mandarin is very good," her mother said.

"Better than mine, you mean," Joan responded.

"I didn't say that"

"He's been practicing. To impress you, I think."

"Really? To impress me?" her mother raised her eyebrows skeptically.

"Of course, who else?" Joan said, exasperated.

Her mother shrugged. "I'm not sure I'm the one he's trying to impress. I see how he looks at you."

"Don't-"

"Don't what? I'm a mother, mothers know these things. But if you don't want to talk about it-"

"I really don't." Joan took a breath, and said in a softer tone. "Thank you."

Her mother squeezed her arm. "You look beautiful. Thank you for coming."

"Of course. Thank you for the hotel rooms."

"I didn't want to worry about my little girl getting home safely," she said with a wink. "Ah, thank you," she said to Sherlock as he returned. "Now, I should go find your brother and make sure he's talked to all of the guests." And with another squeeze of Joan's arm, and a pat on Sherlock's shoulder, she was gone.

"She likes you."

Sherlock looked down at her. "She's quite charming in her way."

"She was impressed with your Mandarin," she said, watching him closely.

He shrugged and looked at her sidelong. "I wasn't trying to impress her," he said, but she felt the energy humming through him, and saw his fingers twitching nervously.

"Hmm."

"What?" he asked, looking down at her sharply.

"Nothing. Just something she said."

"Ah."

The music the DJ was playing changed, and she could see couples begin to take places on the dance floor at the front of the ballroom.

"Shall we?" he asked, holding his arm out for her again.

"What - dance?" she asked. She hadn't prepared for this. Of course there would be dancing.

"Of course. I presume you know how."

"Of course I do. And I presume you've had lessons, right?"

"Copious lessons in childhood, that I am delighted to put to good use at last," he said, and she felt him relax a little as she slipped her arm through his once more.

"Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?"

He guided her expertly around the dance floor, and she relaxed into the feel of him holding her in his arms. He kept a formal distance at first, through the first waltz, but gradually drew her closer through the dances that followed.

"People are looking at us," she murmured, as she caught her mother smiling at her from the table.

"Let them look," he said, low in her ear. She shivered and he drew her closer. "Just relax and enjoy the music."

She looked up at him, and his eyes sparkled as he looked back at her. "Alright, Sherlock. Show me your moves."

***  
She collapsed onto the easy chair in her room, hours and many dances later. She slipped off her shoes and put her feet up on the footstool. Sherlock shrugged off his jacket and sat down next to her feet. "Good wedding?" he asked.

She nodded. "Great wedding. Sore feet though."

He gently lifted her feet onto his lap. "Sorry about that," he said, as he rubbed them. His fingers were gentle but confident, and she tried not to show her surprise.

"That feels good," she said as she let her head drop back against the chair. "Thank you. For everything."

His fingers stilled for a moment, then continued their massage. "Thank you, Watson. Your family reminds me that not all families are like mine."

She opened one eye to look at him. "Hmm. I'm just going to rest for a minute."

"Of course."

***  
"Watson."

"Hmmm?" she said, sleepily.

"Up you get. You need to get into bed and I don't think you want to sleep in that dress."

"Oh." She let him pull her up from the chair, and leaned on him as she woke up fully. "Sorry."

He chuckled. "You're fine. Just get changed and get into bed. I'll order breakfast for us for the morning."

"You should sleep too."

"Don't worry, I will."

"Mmkay." She took the pajamas he held out to her and shuffled into the bathroom to change. When she emerged a few minutes later, her bed was turned down, and he was gone. She tried not to identify the feeling she had as disappointment.

***  
She awoke to the rap on her door, and his soft, "Watson?"

"I'm awake," she said, sitting up and pushing the hair out of her eyes. He entered with a breakfast tray, looking fresh as a daisy.

"Hungry?"

She nodded, and patted the bed next to her. "Come eat with me."

He settled himself and the tray next to her, and they ate in companionable silence. "What time do we have to be out of the rooms?"

"Not until 3. "

She nodded. "You have a little jam-" Without thinking, she reached over to swipe her thumb across his lips. He grabbed her hand and their gazes locked. "Sorry-" she began, but stuttered to a stop when he turned her hand over in his and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"Thank you," he said, as he released her hand.

"Oh." She had felt the shift last night, as he held her and spun her around the dance floor. And again, when he had massaged her sore feet. But this... She looked up and saw him watching her, worry warring with something else, something warmer, in his eyes. She smiled, and rested her hand against his cheek for a moment, her thumb rubbing over the stubble there. She felt a hunger to touch him that was new. He leaned into her touch and relaxed. "How long?" she asked.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" he asked. And she smiled.

"No. But this is much better."


End file.
